How did it come to this?
by Mariamo
Summary: Time is running out for the Winchesters as the hunters become the hunted and fate finally catches up with them. There's angst and tragedy, but an odd kind of beauty too.
1. Chapter 1

**_This story is set in the future so may contain spoilers for canon events. It does contain tragedy, so do not read if this will upset you._**

 _Disclaimer: Dean, Sam, Castiel, the Impala and any characters from the Supernatural TV series do not belong to me in any way (sadly). I am just playing with the characters and paying homage to the truly great series that is Supernatural. This story is written purely for enjoyment, with no profit of any kind expected, intended or desired._

 _Each moment slips by, just a grain of sand in the hourglass of our lives. Sometimes we crawl. Sometimes we swoop with joy. Most of the time we just endure the boredom, or fear, or pain or responsibility. Then one day there is just a single grain of sand left, and we wonder…_

… **how did it come to this?**

 **Chapter One**

12th – 0800 hrs

Sheriff Haroldsen dumped a generous spoonful of sugar into his coffee and stirred it vigorously as he scrolled through the newsfeed on his pc. An item on the 'breaking news' tape caught his eye.

"Bit close to home," he thought, shaking his head.

Lately it seemed there was only bad news: storms, murders, riots, war, but in the last week there'd been a lull until this incident just one county over. He sighed and scratched his forehead with a work roughened finger. There was no sense in it. Suspected murderers, salt rounds? What was that all about?

11th - Daybreak

Dean stretched cautiously in the darkness of the barn, easing the stiffness from his muscles slowly and painfully, hissing a little through his teeth as pain flared in his left shoulder. The material of his shirt, stiff with dried blood, tore away from the deep bullet score and started a fresh, warm trickle of blood which crept down his arm and onto his hand. He wiped it off impatiently onto the material of his jeans.

He slid towards the open doorway, careful to stay in the shadows. The cold grey light of dawn was spreading across the horizon; a seemingly endless prairie stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Grasses rustled in a soft breeze and a small bird called. The thin strip of road was deserted but for a hawk hovering over some unsuspecting small prey. Normal dawn happenings. He glanced around carefully, his keenly honed hunter's instincts telling him they were safe for the moment. Still time perhaps to make a break for it?

"Dean?" a breath more than a whisper. Behind him Sam stirred, just a shape in the darkness unfolding and stretching.

"Here Sam." Dean moved slightly so his brother could see him against the light. Sam shuffled up to him slowly, slightly bent at the waist, his right arm tight against his ribs.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean reached out and absently pulled a stray piece of straw out of his brother's mop of hair.

"M'okay. Just bruised." Sam sighed, "Thirsty though."

Dean handed him a plastic bottle of water; it was only half full. Sam held it with shaking hands and took a small swig. "We need to move. They're not gonna stop are they..." Sam's tone made it a statement more than a question.

Dean nodded anyway, regretting it immediately as the motion set off a steady thump behind his eyes. He stepped carefully outside into the dawn, gun drawn, and circled the barn once. Still nothing disturbed the vast landscape.

At his whistle Sam eased the huge barn door fully open, the Impala now visible in the gloom inside. He settled himself painfully into the passenger seat as Dean started the engine and nosed her out onto the dirt road. "I'm sorry baby," Dean whispered as he stroked the Impala's wheel lightly with his thumb. He hated to see her like this, all covered in dust and bits of straw, with the marks of their headlong flight all too visible on her black paint.

They crept across the prairie, not fast enough to leave much of a dust cloud, not slow enough to miss the potholes in the rough road. Dean clenched his jaw, worried about something breaking. His baby was a trooper but after all was said and done she had a lot more miles on her clock than he did.

Sam cushioned his ribs against the jolting, his mouth tight with pain. He kept an eye on the road behind them as they seemed to crawl like ants across the vast open space, the rising sun a magnifying glass above them as they fled. Far back he could see the sun was glinting off glass and chrome as flashing blue and red lights crept after them across the brown of the prairie.

Sam was keenly aware of his brother beside him, could tell by the way Dean leant into the door a little that his shoulder was bothering him, felt the tiredness seeping across the space between them. He reached out as though to touch his brother's sleeve, his hand falling away again, wanting familiar comfort but suddenly embarrassed. Time had left its little marks on their faces, sprinkled the first grey in their hair; he was too grown up now, too damn _old_ to be reaching out to his big brother like that.

Dean narrowed his eyes in Sam's direction, feeling the pull of his brother's desperation. "Alright there Sammy?" he growled.

Sam nodded, swallowing, blinking, always the one with the clever words but suddenly wordless and overwhelmed.

-o-

They didn't hear it coming over the bellow of the Impala. The helicopter was just suddenly, shockingly right above them, swooping low and swinging to face them, hovering just above the road surface as its rotors threw a cloud of dust and dry grass in their direction. Dean hit the brakes sharply, the Impala fishtailing as he fought her under control. Behind them the lights and sirens closed in. There was no way off the road here, the drop off on either side too steep.

Sam's hand was already on the door handle, ready to bail out, when the helicopter lurched abruptly sideways, rotors stuttering, and then shot into the air. The pilot seemed to be fighting the controls, close enough to the Impala that they could see the white panic on his face as the machine staggered through the air. It gained height rapidly, leaking black smoke as it careered off across the prairie.

Dean gasped out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, floored the accelerator, tried to re-open the distance between the Impala and the pursuing vehicles. The gap opened steadily and Sam was just beginning to breathe a little easier when they came up out of a slight dip in the ground and saw the roadblock ahead of them, all sun on steel and flashing lights.

"We're out of road, Sammy!"

Grim faced, Dean swung the Impala without hesitation on to the prairie, pushing her as fast as possible into the vast grassland. A single vehicle followed them but seemed to hit an unseen hole, coming to a jarring halt. Its lights strobed helplessly behind them as the Impala ploughed on, Dean using every trick he'd ever learnt to keep her moving forwards.

"They've stopped!" Sam gasped, bracing himself into the corner of the seat as they bounced wildly along. "Calling up more air support?"

After what seemed like hours, but was probably in reality only thirty minutes or so, the landscape became suddenly wilder. The Impala launched gamely across terrain that would be challenging to a modern 4x4. Dean could feel her guts wrenching as he fought the wheel, "I'm so sorry baby," he moaned, pushing her onwards towards a distant building. Where there was a building there would be some kind of road. They couldn't afford to get caught out here in the open, needed to get back on a road before the next helicopter turned up or they were cut off by ATVs. His life, and more importantly Sam's life, depended on it.

They were moving way too fast when they hit the gulley, and the Impala bucked like a startled horse, twisting and flying briefly into the air, for a second almost like her namesake before she smashed into the dry surface. She rolled once, flipped back up onto her wheels and came to a shattering halt. Dean felt something just give, and knew even before he landed on his knees beside her that she would be going no further without assistance. He pulled himself up by the doorframe, looking at the damage, smashed his fist onto the roof, "Dammit baby!"

Sam grabbed his shoulder and held on when his brother tried to twist away. "We have to move!" He thrust a duffle of weapons at Dean, throwing another onto his own shoulder. "We'll come back for her Dean," his voice pleading now, "Please Dean, we have to go!"

Dean nodded, "Just gimme a minute Sam, I'll catch you up." His breath sobbed in his throat, the pain of parting like a knife in his heart.

Sam stepped back, a sharp lump stuck in his throat, unable to move further from his brother. He watched with tears in his eyes as Dean placed his hands on the twisted hood. "I'm so sorry baby," he whispered hoarsely, "I _will_ come back for you. If I can."

He stood upright, still keeping one hand touching her gently. There was no-one left to call: no Bobby, no Garth, no-one who would come by with a tow truck and rescue his baby. He patted her lightly, feeling the warmth beneath his fingertips of the place he had called home for so very long, was slammed with a rush of memories: his Dad brooding and dark behind the wheel, him and Sammy laughing on the back seat, thundering up the road with Highway to Hell pouring from the windows… He dragged his fingertips free, felt dizzy, suddenly adrift without an anchor. He forced himself backwards, backing away from the initials scratched in the door panels, the lego in the air vent, the spilt Winchester blood, the ghost of laughter echoing inside the smashed windows. He knew he may never see her again, couldn't bring himself to lie to her, the only one who had never let him down. He couldn't, wouldn't, promise to be back. "I'll _try,_ " he repeated, broken, staggering away after Sam into the brown grass. He turned back just once, the sun sparkled off her twisted chrome, glittering in a broken headlight like tears catching the light. Unable to breathe past the pain in his chest he stepped away, just one more step, and she was lost to view.

Sam forged onwards, instinctively knowing it was the best way to keep Dean moving forwards. His hands clenched as he forced himself not to turn back to his brother. He could hear Dean stumbling along behind, his breath gasping and whistling harshly, knew without looking that his brother was crying so hard he could barely get the air in and out of his chest.

Sam's own pain at the loss of the Impala was nearly buried beneath choking fear, caused by the intensity of his brother's distress. It could only mean Dean really believed he wasn't coming back. After a while he slowed a little, chanced a glance back at Dean's tear tracked face, and met the tortured green glare full on.

"She will still be there," Sam said gently, "Watching the stars, just like we always did."

 ** _Concluded in chapter two… it's actually quite painful to write this one… Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**_This story is set in the future so may contain spoilers for canon events. It does contain tragedy, so do not read if this will upset you._**

 _Disclaimer: Dean, Sam, Castiel, the Impala and any characters from the Supernatural TV series do not belong to me in any way (sadly). I am just playing with the characters and paying homage to the truly great series that is Supernatural. This story is written purely for enjoyment, with no profit of any kind expected, intended or desired._

 _Each moment slips by, just a grain of sand in the hourglass of our lives. Sometimes we crawl. Sometimes we swoop with joy. Most of the time we just endure the boredom, or fear, or pain or responsibility. Then one day there is just a single grain of sand left, and we wonder…_

… **how did it come to this?**

 **Chapter Two**

They pushed on towards the distant building, it grew gradually out of the landscape in front of them until they could see it was a dilapidated barn. There was an overgrown track running away from it, presumably towards a far off road.

Dean scraped his fingers through his hair, sighed tiredly, "No transport?"

"Water maybe…" Sam cranked a rusty pump handle over an empty trough and a little trickle of brackish water turned gradually into a clearer stream. He tasted it carefully, "Seems ok." The boys drank thirstily, sticking their heads briefly under the slow dribble. Sam rubbed his hands across his wet face, tilting an ear upwards as the slow whump of rotor blades in the distance brought the boys to stillness.

"I'm gonna check over there, in case there's an old truck or somethin' behind the shed." Sam waved towards a second small building and headed across the open space towards it.

Dean grunted, filling the water bottle and dropping the duffle bags just inside the shadows of the barn door. "Be quick Sammy, it's gettin' closer." He could hear vehicle engines as well now and saw a slight haze of dust heading in their direction, felt a clench of dread in his gut. With a helicopter in the mix too there was just nowhere to run on the open plain. His only hope had been to somehow get hold of one of the vehicles. His mind flew to the Impala, stranded out there on the prairie. She couldn't sweep them away to safety this time.

The helicopter came up fast, bigger than the one before, and the heavy whump of its rotors blattered in his eardrums.

"Sam!" Dean dragged weapons out of the duffle. Sam was pelting towards him, wide eyed, when a machine gun opened up, stitching a line of death across the open ground. Sam dived into the shelter of the trough, shielded above by the overhang of the barn but unable to cross the square of ground to the barn door. Dean threw a shotgun and a cloth bag of cartridges across to him, hurling himself back through the open door as vehicles screeched into the barnyard and a hail of fire threw up a lethal storm of wood splinters and chips of rock.

-o-

Dean crouched in the shadow; to enter the bar of golden sunlight shining in through the barn door was sure death. He could see Sam through the doorway, tucked down behind the water trough, pinned down. No-one out there seemed to want to negotiate, few people were in uniform and he'd caught a glimpse of demon eyes. The feeling was ugly; he didn't give much for their chances with a bunch of demons and vigilantes when they ran out of ammo.

A flicker of air behind him brought him spinning around to find himself face to face with Castiel. His heart lurched with shock and the beginnings of hope.

"Wha… Cas! What are you doing here?"

"I am here." Castiel's voice was grave, his tone serenely calm, as though being there was enough in itself. His blue eyes were intense in his sombre face, his figure familiar and scruffy in its rumpled trench coat and twisted tie.

"You're alive!"

"Not alive as such Dean. I am wearing the resemblance of my vessel so I am recognisable to you. Heaven and hell as you know them have ended in this dimension."

"I know," Dean nodded shakily, "Doesn't feel any different though?"

"Things _have_ changed for ever Dean. The last of the demons on Earth are outside and the angels have already left. God has made us more remote, as it used to be. The world will become a different place without our direct influence, a new start perhaps for mankind?"

"But what, what about all the souls that were in heaven?" Dean stammered, thoughts flying to his friends.

"They are being cared for, a new heaven has been prepared for them on the other side. I must leave too as my time here is almost done."

"Can you help us?" Dean could hear the desperation in his own voice. "We didn't do it... kill those people. They died when the demons left. We were just, I dunno, wrong place, wrong time."

"I know Dean. It is not something you or Sam would ever do. But I cannot alter what is done. I am no longer able to influence what humans think or do."

Dean's head dropped, disappointed. Castiel reached out, tilting Dean's face up with a finger beneath his chin. He spoke gently "I have enough time left to do one last thing for my friend. And you, Dean Winchester, are my friend." His blue eyes were fierce. "I can save your soul Dean, if that is your wish. I can take you to the new heaven."

Dean stared at him, struggling to take it all in. "Save my soul? What if I say 'no' Cas? And what happens to all the souls that are still here, what happens when those people die?"

"What lies after death for the souls of those left behind is a mystery, only God knows, perhaps he always intended it to be a mystery? All I can tell you is that heaven and hell as you have come to know them have gone from this dimension."

Dean swallowed, "You have to leave?"

"Yes Dean, it is my time to leave. I have enough 'mojo', as you call it, to take one soul with me, but only one." Castiel stared at him sorrowfully, watching the emotions flicker across his face.

"So I'd die here, and you'd take my soul… just _my_ soul, to this new heaven?"

"Yes Dean, and you would be safe there."

Dean shook his head slowly. "I can't go Cas. Things to finish here y'know? You say you've enough mojo to take one soul? Then take Sam's."

"I can do that." Castiel stared at him intently, unsurprised. "But he must go with me now. And you will never be able to join him."

"I know." Dean swallowed thickly, staring out of the doorway at his brother hunched by the water trough. "Look after him for me, Cas, keep him safe." A tear slid down his cheek. "Tell him I'm sorry. Ask him to say 'hi' to Dad and Mom and Bobby and everyone for me."

"You are a good person Dean Winchester." Castiel touched his shoulder lightly, pulled him into a brief tight hug. "I am proud to have known you."

There was a rustle of wings and Dean's arms were abruptly empty. A sudden crackle of gunfire broke out and he spun to face the doorway. Out in the yard Sam arched upwards and then sprawled boneless into the dust.

"Nononononono…!" Dean's howl of pain cut over the gunshots. He rushed forwards towards the door without thinking, firing wildly, and was hit by a massive numbing blow to his thigh that hurled him backwards into the shadows, stole his breath. It seemed the walls of the barn rushed in towards him as his mind screamed endlessly, hopelessly. His brother was gone, no time even to say goodbye, no way to ever find him again. He struggled to a sitting position, firing at the doorway. The gunfire outside eased as he scrabbled, painfully, further into the shadows on his backside, dragging his numb leg, his mouth open in a silent howl.

He sat in the dust for a while, tears streaming down his face as he tried to yank in breaths, bewildered by the speed things had happened. There was a sudden increase in the intensity of firing through the doorway, loud shouts outside. Dean threw himself flat on the floor, instinct pressing his face into the dirt, his body curling in on itself, trying to present as small a target as possible in the middle of the angry whine of bullets, lethal flying splinters of wood.

A round ploughed into the floor beside his face, throwing dry dirt into his eyes. He clawed at them, wasn't ready when the dark figure burst through the doorway and rolled towards him in a tangle of long limbs. Dean fumbled, aiming and firing, pulling the shot in the last split second as Sam's shocked features swam before his streaming eyes. A hollow feeling of dread settled in his stomach, the disappointment crushing. "Fuck! Cas! You useless bastard!" the words wrung out of him, loud in the sudden lull in the firing.

"Dean!" Sam reached out to him and grasped his forearm, wide hazel eyes locked onto his own.

"What are you doing here Sammy?" the words were torn from him, harsh in his throat. He felt his legs shaking as he staggered to his feet, listing sideways as his numb leg tried to fold beneath him. "It was my last wish, he promised me, Cas promised!"

"You sent me away Dean!"

"Yeah Sammy, to heaven! To be safe!"

"To be dead, Dean!"

"You think you won't be dead here?" Furious, upset, Dean's voice stuttered, "Did, did you see what's out there?!"

"Yes!" Sam shouted, "I may end up dead here too Dean! _We_ may end up dead! But at least we'll go out together!"

Dean raked at his hair, frantic, yelling, "But you'd be in heaven, you should be in heaven now! With Dad, and Mom, and Bobby and Jo and Ellen and… and Everyone!"

"And where would you be Dean?" Sam's face was white, "Here? Facing all this by yourself?" He waved a hand furiously. "And what happens after? Where will you go, alone?"

"It doesn't matter Sammy, it doesn't matter about me, it never did, just s'long as you're safe, it's my job, it's always been my job." Anguish was on Dean's face, his voice breaking, "It's still my job!" He swatted weakly at Sam's grip on his arms, his boot soles scuffing as his little brother yanked him suddenly forwards, and he fell, half sobbing now, into Sam's t-shirt, "You should be safe now!"

Sam wound his long arms tight around him, "You are one silly son of a bitch, d'ya know that?" he said quietly, "What good is heaven without you?"

"But he promised!" Dean's voice sounded like a small child muffled against Sam's neck, "Cas promised!"

Sam held on tight, breathing in the familiar scent of his brother, grounding himself after the panic of being taken away, getting back to where he belonged, trying to fight the white hot pain in his side. He took a deep breath, pushed himself away a little and looked into Dean's face, said calmly and slowly, "Dean. I got a last wish too." And watched the understanding dawn on Dean's face, a flicker of pain, and pride, and fear and love, morphing to horror as he saw the blood pumping out of the hole in Sam's side.

-o-

Dean tore off his shirt, wadding it up and pressing it against Sam's ribs, Sam grasped it, already his face looked sweaty, shocky, as Dean lowered him to a sitting position.

Dean fired a couple of angry shots through the doorway and flopped back against the wall. The numbness was wearing off his leg, a terrible pounding taking hold, greying his vision and making him clammy and nauseous. He slid down, bad leg straight in front, his jeans sopping and dark with blood, boot squelchy. Each beat of his pulse send a shiver of agony through his thigh, and he looked down and then away, glimpsing the white of bone through the shredded flesh and denim.

" _No-one is gonna help us,"_ he thought, _"No-one left, even Cas is gone."_ He turned to Sam, "I'm sorry Sam. For everything." He wasn't sure Sam was listening, his eyelids flickering as he concentrated on breathing.

"Sorry" he whispered again, holding onto his brother's cold hand. "I'm so tired Sammy, I can't think how to save you this time. All those times we could have, _should have_ , stayed dead. I think this might be it little brother. Not even a badass monster… how did we end up here, being shot for something we didn't even do? How did it come to this…?"

Sam's breath bubbled painfully, a little rim of red around his lips. He held the wadded up shirt against his side. It was sodden, blood leaking over his fingers. He hitched in a breath, cracking open his eyes and trying a smile at his brother through blood edged teeth, "Doesn't look like we're gonna need that condo in the sun then?"

Dean's face was sad, "You never got that apple pie life Sammy."

Sam shook his head, "Had it for a bit, with Jess. You never got that white picket fence either y'know."

Dean smiled, "Had it with Lisa I guess, but it wasn't really for me. I loved 'em y'know, but I never really settled there. Normal don't work for me, not like you Sammy, you'd have been good at normal."

Sam chuffed a laugh, ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah, hot-shot lawyer! Doesn't matter now though. I wouldn't fit into that life now, it wouldn't be _enough_ , too much has happened. And you and me, we didn't get normal, but all those people we saved, _they_ got their normal, because of us, and maybe that _is_ enough."

Dean nodded, squeezing his brother's hand, "Always the clever one Sammy."

Sam shifted painfully, "So where are we going if we get out of here then?"

Dean laid a hand on his knee, gripping and shaking it slightly, forcing a grin onto his face, " _When_ we get out of here Sammy, when. And then it's beer and pool and burgers and some of that damn salad for you, and maybe a girl or two…" His eyes brimmed, making a lie of the grin, and he dashed at them angrily.

"I'm not sitting here, like a rat in a trap. It's no way for a hunter to end. I'm gonna take it to 'em."

Sam sighed, "We don't kill humans, Dean."

Dean's lips turned up, he smirked right at Sam, waved his gun, "Salt rounds Sam. Just salt. I'm not going out in some electric chair, rotting away in some jail. I'm gonna fly right up their noses, Sammy."

Sam laughed breathlessly, "The Winchesters, slugging it out to the end."

"S'right Sam. It's not _when_ you go, it's _how_ you go. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Just like we used to, d'ya remember, in Bobby's yard." Dean slipped an arm under Sam's shoulder, hauled him carefully upright, steadying him when he swayed.

Sam nodded, grinning crazy, head full of a hot summer day in South Dakota, him and Dean just kids, bursting out of Bobby's garage, firing blanks as they raced across the yard between the rusting wrecks, nearly giving poor Bobby a heart attack. "Yeah Dean. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid! Just like we used to."

It was very still outside, a heavy expectant silence. Little dust motes drifted and sparkled in the bar of hot sunshine falling through the doorway. At the edge of the golden light the brothers looked at each other slowly… and somewhere in the universe a grain of sand teetered and finally fell…

And Sam stood tall, dropping the wad of shirt behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist, taking a firm grip of his shotgun. He'd turned into a giant, Dean thought fondly. Who'd ever have thought his skinny little brother would turn out so big? Sam grinned, suddenly all dimples and floppy hair, hazel eyes laughing, the golden light wiping away the years, the same little boy Dean had always adored. Sam met his gaze squarely, "I love you Dean," he said quietly.

And Dean smiled, a soft, slow smile full of affection. "Love you too Sammy," he growled. He stepped forwards a half pace into the sunlight and to Sam it seemed as though his brother lit up, the brilliance of the light turning the grey in his hair to gold, outlining the freckles against his skin and smoothing away the little lines, the green eyes suddenly exquisite in their brilliance as they fixed on Sam. Sam stared, absorbing the lithe strength radiating off his brother as he stood jauntily in his blood soaked jeans. He watched the smile widen into a crazy grin, realised suddenly that after everything they'd been through, after everything they'd put each other through, Dean was, after all, still his hero.

Checking their guns the brothers turned as one, instinctively aware of each other's every move, a lifetime of shared moments coming together in this, the final one. Together they drew in a deep breath of the golden air, and burst out of the doorway into the blazing sunlight…

 **The End.**

 _A dark little story, but I hope you felt the light beneath the surface. At the end that's how I see them, Dean still trying to sacrifice himself to save his little brother, Sam the adult taking that decision firmly into his own hands and stepping up there next to his hero. Heading into the unknown, but still together…_

 _This story was inspired by a quote from Jensen Ackles. Just prior to the filming of the finale of season 6, asked about a possible ending for the series many years in the future, Jensen replied "…Souls intact, everything intact, going out guns blazing… Maybe it's a Butch Cassidy and Sundance thing…" and so, many years later, I wrote this story._

 _By bizarre coincidence, after chapter 1 of this story was posted, while I was uploading and editing chapter 2, I checked the internet to make sure I had the words of Jensen's quote correctly, and found Popsugar had posted a link minutes earlier to an Entertainment Weekly interview with Jensen and Jared talking about possible endings to the show, Jared actually mentioning how in the past he had envisaged a Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid style finale as one option!_

 _It seems even the boys themselves are not sure how they want the Winchesters to finish their journey, but like them I do truly hope it is many years in the future. Even if the series does ultimately end on a different note here it is, my version, for what it's worth, of a Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid style finale for the Winchesters._

 _With thanks to Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, who have made the Winchesters the awesome characters they are, and have inspired so many of us to write our stories!_

 ** _Thank you for taking the time to read and review, it is much appreciated. Even if it is years after this was written, reviews will still be appreciated. Thank you._**


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